


Silentio (The Eavesdropper Remix)

by needleandspoon



Category: U2
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-18
Updated: 2007-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needleandspoon/pseuds/needleandspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam listens in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silentio (The Eavesdropper Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Silentio](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/6413) by Inklingfair. 



They're quieter tonight.

Not quiet, not entirely, but definitely quieter.

And while Adam likes to watch (and he doesn't mind admitting, to himself at least, that the thought of watching those two isn't exactly off-putting) listening has its own special piquancy too.

It was the spanking that really started it. There wasn't anything else it could have been, not with that sharp, delicious slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the wall between Bono's room and his own. He'd been lying in bed alone, minding his own business, wondering whether an orgasm would help him sleep, wondering if he'd hear them again tonight like he had every single night since they'd been staying here; wondering too whether they had any idea just how much their voices carried through the thin walls, when the sounds caught his ear.

It was Bono's soft chuckle he'd heard first, low and intimate and immediately recognisable, followed by Edge's voice, the words blurred by distance. Nothing out of the ordinary in that; those two were forever in each other's pockets. Adam was a heartbeat away from rolling over and going to sleep, but the sharp crack of a hand on bare skin coupled with a high, complicated gasp that was nothing like pain… Now _that_ pricked up his ears and made his prick, well... more than a little interested.

There's been spanking at least five times since, to Adam's counting, not to mention all the other nights when their voices have filtered through to him, warm and urgent or high and impatient, or some other combination equally beguiling but unpunctuated. It probably should bother him, getting off on the sound of Bono and Edge together, but if he's honest with himself (and it really is one of the things he's Working On, as they say) it simply doesn't. Maybe the years and everything they've been through together have blurred the lines between them all far more than he'd thought. Maybe he's just a pervert.

In truth, either is a workable theory.

But tonight, on the other side of the wall, Edge is just moaning softly; barely audible but so fucking sweet all Adam can do is wrap his hand around his cock and wait for the rest. He can't hear Bono at all, which is odd; he could have sworn he'd heard them both talking in the room earlier and Bono is never quiet. The man could talk under wet cement with his jaw wired shut, and he's no different when he's fucking. If anything, he's louder.

Usually.

But tonight all Adam can hear is Edge, and that changes everything. Adam's hand moves on his cock, stroking slowly, ears straining to hear whatever will come next. It's definitely quiet in there, and his imagination is busy filling in what could be happening to render Bono speechless. Edge fucking Bono's mouth, maybe, pressing him down, covering him with his fine, strong body as he does it.... Narrow hips thrusting; small, tight arse bunching with every stroke. _Oh, yes._

His breath catches in his throat as he stifles a gasp. It's too easy, far easier than he'd ever admit (even to himself, even with that self-honesty thing he's supposed to be working on) to imagine himself there, under him, drowning in the taste and feel of Edge bearing down on him, Edge fucking him hard and fast, fucking his mouth, his throat, until Adam comes just from the sheer pleasure of being taken.

God. Where the hell had _that_ come from?

In the room next door, Edge's voice is rising, louder than he's ever been before, louder and more urgent, different somehow in a rhythmic solo of pleasure that strikes exactly the right note, makes Adam need to match it with a rhythm of his own. And matching it he is, before he even realises that he's doing it he's running his fingers the length of his cock, quickly, lightly, with the remembered touch of Edge's hand, all those incidental, meaningless touches coalescing into something entirely different in his imagination.

But it's not enough, nowhere near enough, this light touch, not when Edge is moaning like that. Adam tightens his hand around himself and pulls harder, lifting his hips off the bed, and it's... still not right. With a frustrated grunt, he flips over in the bed so he's facedown and arse up, and _oh yeah_ , that's so much better. He spreads his legs and pushes hard into his own hand as if Edge is on top of him, fucking him in time with the cries from the other room he can hear; cries getting louder and more desperate with every passing moment. The scene in his head is so intensely, perfectly real at that moment he can feel Edge stretching him open, moving inside him, hitting the sweet spot with uncanny accuracy. It's almost more than he can stand. Almost.

Next door, the bed starts knocking against the wall, and it’s so fucking cliched he should laugh, but funny is really the last thing it is. Right here, right now, it's just more fuel for the fantasy. Edge inside him, fucking him and not caring who hears, sharp teeth at his shoulder, stubble rough on his skin, those clever hands finding every erogenous zone he ever thought of having, that soft voice growing louder, crying out into his ear, making that noise just for him, wanting to come inside him again and again.... Through the wall Edge's voice reaches a crescendo and he's screaming, wild and reckless.

Losing control.

And there it is, the trigger, that one thought that sends Adam right over. Edge, losing control, losing it because of him, having that Zen-like facade burn away until there's nothing left but pure need. There's nothing else for Adam to wait for, even if he could. He's coming now, coming in a helpless liquid shudder, coming with his whole body until all he can do is collapse into the bed with a choked-off moan of his own while his orgasm is still twitching down his spine. It seems like a long time before he's back to himself again.

In the room next door and in Adam's mind, Edge is quiet. That's okay. The silence makes it easier, somehow, for Adam to imagine Edge is there with him, as breathless and boneless with pleasure as Adam is; easier to imagine Edge beside him, warm and heavy, falling into sleep, falling into dreams of another night.

Just like Adam is.

end

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to inklingfair for her magnificent story Silentio on which this is based. No doubt I haven't done it justice. Huge thanks also to bonoffee for her fabulously helpful beta. All and any remaining mistakes are mine and not hers.


End file.
